


Several Potions Deep and Nothing to Slay

by JinxedAmbitions



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Gentleness, Geralt smells like death, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Massage, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Sensory Overload, Soft Jaskier | Dandelion, This may be the softest thing I've posted on here, and onion, certainly the softest in a while
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:48:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23404015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JinxedAmbitions/pseuds/JinxedAmbitions
Summary: Every so often, Geralt takes his potions in preparation to fight a monster, only to find it already dead, injured, or vacated from the area.  He's left to deal with the effects of the potions until they wear off.Jaskier's only seen it a handful of times, but it doesn't take a degree from Oxenfurt to know that despite the potions allowing Geralt to face the most terrifying of beasts, they make him vulnerable around crowds of easily frightened townsfolk.  So, Jaskier takes it upon himself to see that the witcher has a safe place to come back down.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 33
Kudos: 1152
Collections: wiedźmin





	Several Potions Deep and Nothing to Slay

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on Rebelbelladonna's prompt: Jaskier soothing Geralt’s sensory issues/chronic pains. 
> 
> This may have gotten a little longer than the "teeny tiny" fic I said I was going to write. And it may get a second part that is closer to the prompt, but this was what my brain said to write last night.

Jaskier knew what was happening as soon as Geralt stepped into the tavern with inky black eyes when it was barely past sundown. It wasn’t something that happened often, but it happened often enough that Jaskier had seen it before. Geralt had found the monster’s lair, taken his potions then either found the beast dead, injured, or vacated. Thus, Geralt was left high on a cocktail of potions to heighten his senses and dull any pain he felt. 

All eyes in the tavern turned to Geralt as Jaskier stopped playing mid song. A woman screamed as she got a good look at Geralt’s face, and another cried that a devil had possessed the witcher.

Geralt stood there pale as the snow outside with black veins webbing across his skin and eyes of ink. From across the room, Jaskier could tell the man was breathing heavier than normal.

“Well, it has been a truly lovely night with you all, but I’m afraid I must leave you,” Jaskier announced, making his way across the tavern to where Geralt stood frozen. 

The only indication that Jaskier had that he was aware of his surroundings was that he flinched at almost every uncharitable curse that was hurled his way. Unlike Geralt, the rest of the room moved, most in the opposite direction of Geralt.

Jaskier would’ve stopped to reprimand each and every one of the cowards, but he was far too concerned with Geralt and the haunted expression on his face.

“Hey there, Geralt,” Jaskier said, stepping directly in front of Geralt and blocking out at least the view of the room. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

Geralt flinched hard when Jaskier touched his bicep, but Jaskier didn’t let go. 

“Upstairs,” he repeated, physically pulling Geralt from the tavern to the rooms above. He was thankful that Geralt allowed himself to be manhandled up the stairs. 

Eventually, Jaskier had to let go of Geralt’s arm in order to remove the key to their room from his doublet. The hidden pockets he’d sewn into them always came in handy for things like this.

Jaskier was surprised when Geralt reached forward and touched his lower back with gentle fingers. 

“Just a moment, and we can get you out of that armor and cleaned off,” he said, glancing over his shoulder where Geralt was standing with his shoulders so tense that they almost touched his ears. “Shouldn’t be so loud once we’re inside being at the back of the building and all.”

Geralt didn’t respond, but he crowded closer to Jaskier when the crowd downstairs got particularly loud.

“Rowdy crowd,” Jaskier said, turning the key in the lock and pushing the door open. He ushered Geralt inside with another hand around his arm, and Geralt didn’t flinch this time. “There we go.” Jaskier pushed the door shut and locked it once again. 

There was a lone candle burning on the small table beside the cot. Jaskier didn’t bother to light any others, knowing too much light would only agitate Geralt. 

“Let’s get you out of that armor,” Jaskier almost whispered as he guided Geralt to the cot and pushed him down to sit on it.

Geralt was silent as he let Jaskier remove his armor piece by piece. The tension was practically pouring off of him as Jaskier worked, but he didn’t protest being stripped. 

Jaskier didn’t stop with his armor either. He carefully helped Geralt out of his shirt. He knelt in front of him and removed his heavy boots before easing his pants down his thighs and tugging them off completely.

When Geralt was in nothing but his smallclothes, Jaskier patted his thighs gently before bracing himself on them to stand. He stepped over to the wash basin he’d used earlier to clean away the worst of the dirt from their travels. He’d refreshed it before going down to sing for his supper as it were, knowing Geralt would want to do the same after he returned.

Moistening a strip of linen, Jaskier turned back to Geralt. He leaned over him and carefully lifted Geralt’s hair and placed the cool cloth to the back of his neck.

Geralt hummed, tipping his head forward until it hung limply against his chest.

“No need to be dramatic about it,” Jaskier said softly, running his fingers through Geralt’s hair which was blessedly free of monster guts. “Going to tie this up, so it’s not in the way.” 

Geralt didn’t protest as Jaskier removed the leather tie from his hair and slowly began to braid his long hair back away from his face. Geralt swayed slightly as Jaskier’s fingers combed through his hair several times.

Jaskier spoke softly as he worked, knowing that as much as he exasperated Geralt, his voice was also familiar and grounding. He couldn’t imagine what Geralt was feeling because Jaskier had seen what Geralt was capable of when he was several potions deep. He could only assume that everything was both too much and too little when he wasn’t fighting for his life. Too much awareness, not enough outlet for the energy he had. 

Geralt leaned into his stomach as Jaskier completed the braid and wound it into a bun before deftly wrapping the leather tie around it until it was secure. He’d done this before, only for Geralt to growl and curse at him, but now he didn’t seem to mind. Probably was happy not to have it tickle his over-sensitized skin.

With Geralt’s hair out of the way, Jaskier removed the cloth and went back to the basin. He dipped it into the water again and wrung the excess out of it before kneeling in front of Geralt. 

Jaskier brought the cool cloth to Geralt’s chest and cleaned away the sweat and dust from the road. “I forget that you’re almost as pale as I am when you aren’t covered in dirt,” Jaskier remarked teasingly as he went back to the basin to rinse the cloth. 

This time, Jaskier came back with the entire basin and began the slow process of cleaning Geralt with nothing but a few strips of linen. “Don’t be silly. It’s not just the potions. I’ve seen your ass wade in and out of the bath, and I have personal knowledge that it is of the color of the moon in tonight’s sky,” Jaskier added as though Geralt had protested.

Geralt let him work. Sometimes he would jerk and look up at Jaskier like he was surprised he was there. His black eyes would catch the candlelight and practically glow at Jaskier. Some would’ve found it eerie, but Jaskier didn’t mind it. He actually found Geralt’s black eyes rather endearing, truth told.

Jaskier knew Geralt was somewhere between meditation and complete sensory overload and shutdown. He doubted it was a pleasant state to be in just based on how haunted Geralt looked when he was coherent enough to look Jaksier in the eye.

Geralt’s skin was slick with sweat as though his body was trying to burn out the toxins he’d ingested. Jaskier let the cloth soak and barely wrung it out as he brought the cool linen to Geralt’s fevered skin. 

“Hmm,” Geralt hummed, leaning forward to press his slick forehead to Jaskier’s shoulder.

“That’s it, lean on me. It’ll pass just as soon as that poison you drink is out of your system,” Jaskier said, bringing one hand up to cradle the back of Geralt’s head while the other bathed his shoulder and back. 

Jaskier began to hum a tune as he continued to bath Geralt’s fevered skin while cradling him securely. He wondered what the woman who’d screamed would say if she saw them now, or any of the strong men who’d crawled over each other to move further away. He doubted it would change their minds because sometimes ignorance was a choice, and it wasn’t easily conquered by truth. 

“I’m sure you wouldn’t agree, but I much prefer this to sewing you back together after you went and got yourself torn to shreds,” Jaskier said between tunes. “Let’s get you onto your stomach, and I’ll rub some chamomile on your muscles so you don’t cramp when this wears off. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way your shoulder’s been acting up.”

Geralt growled softly into Jaskier’s chest, and Jaskier smiled. If Geralt was responding even slightly, what he was doing was working.

“Any requests for my next song? I was thinking of the one about you accidentally sleeping with the high vampire…”

There was a soft grumble from Geralt.

“Oh, right that was me. How about a traditional tune?” Jaskier asked cheekily before beginning to hum  _ Toss a Coin to Your Witcher. _

Geralt groaned, but he had his wits about him enough to lie down on the cot and roll onto his belly as Jaskier had requested. And despite his dramatic groan, Geralt didn’t actually tell him to stop.

Jaskier placed the cloth back in the basin before wringing it out one last time and placing it on the back of Geralt’s neck once more. Geralt made an appreciative sound, and Jaskier squeezed his shoulder gently before getting to his feet and walking over to his pack. He only just missed walking into a chair as he crossed the dark room, but he danced out of the way at the last second. 

Digging through his bags, Jaskier produced a vial of chamomile infused oil which worked wonders on the aches and pains he knew Geralt carried even when he wasn’t slaying monsters. Unfortunately, he could only afford it when coin wasn’t tight, but there still was enough for this evening.

Returning to the bed, Jaskier sat on the edge of the cot. He hadn’t stopped humming, and Geralt responded by moving slightly to give him more room.

“I have space. Just try to relax,” Jaskier said, removing the cork from the vial and pouring a small amount onto his fingers before replacing the cork. He rubbed his hands together before resting them on Geralt’s shoulders. He waited until he felt Geralt force himself to relax, then he slowly began to massage the oil into his tense muscles.

Jaskier wasn’t offended when about halfway through the massage Geralt had fallen asleep and was snoring lightly. He’d known it was coming as Geralt’s skin had cooled and his muscles slowly loosened. Still, Jaskier continued to massage Geralt, knowing that once he’d come off the potions his old injuries had a tendency to act up, not to mention his body tended to cramp. The cramping was especially bad on nights like tonight when Geralt didn’t work the potions off in battle. 

Jaskier ran his fingers down Geralt’s spine when he was finally finished. He traced several of the scars on Geralt’s back, but only the ones he’d sewn himself—ones he felt he had a claim to even if that claim was his poor suturing skills. 

Geralt didn’t stir even as Jaskier used his shoulder to push himself to his feet. He wouldn’t wake until morning if not later depending on what he’d taken. Then Jaskier would get the truth out of him, and they’d dance around what had transpired this evening, and then they’d be on the Path once again.

Jaskier was just pouring the contents of the basin out the window when there was a soft knock on the door. Frowning, Jaskier walked to the door and unlocked it, hoping it wasn’t someone come to try their luck against the demon.

A comely young woman was standing on the other side of the door. She looked as nervous as she was drunk as she smiled at him flirtatiously.

“May I help you, my fair dove?” Jaskier asked, keeping his voice to a whisper and the door only cracked. He doubted they’d disturb Geralt, but he also didn’t want anyone to see the witcher in such a vulnerable state. 

“I thought you might—” she trailed off, giving him a suggestive smile.

“Ah, well, yes. That is a safe thing to assume; however, I am afraid that the circumstances as they are this evening...I must decline your most tempting offer,” he said, glancing back into the room before giving the young maiden a disappointed look.

“Oh, but I wouldn’t mind. Your friend could join us?” she suggested, looking even more hopeful.

Suddenly, Jaskier understood her mission very clearly. His features darkened, and he all but growled at the young woman. 

“We are not looking for entertainment this evening. I would suggest you find your own entertainment elsewhere rather than letting your friends talk you into bedding the beast upstairs.” 

Before the woman could say anything else, he closed the door in her face and locked it once again. He ran his hand over his face in irritation before turning to find Geralt lying on his side watching him with half-lidded eyes which still glowed in the shadows of the corner.

“You could’ve bedded her if you wanted,” Geralt offered softly.

“I am not interested in the intrigues she was party to.”

Geralt smiled at him, pulling the covers back in a silent invitation. “You don’t need to protect me, Jaskier.”

“It is not obligation, my dear witcher,” Jaskier told him plainly as he quickly removed his shirt and trousers until he too was only in his smallclothes. He walked across the room and settled beside Geralt on the cot, pushing him until Geralt rolled away from him. He settled his arm over Geralt’s hip. “I also have no intention of sharing you this evening.”

Geralt grunted. “You mean you do not wish to share the stench of potion sweats or the nightmares?”

“Do not flatter yourself. I have slathered you in chamomile for my nostrils’ sake, and I sleep like the dead, so you can fight demons in your sleep all you wish,” Jaskier told him, settling just a little closer to Geralt, so their bodies were flush together.

“Hmm.” Geralt didn’t call his bluff, instead placing his hand over Jaskier’s and lacing their fingers.

“Sleep well, my dear witcher,” Jaskier whispered, pressing a kiss to Geralt’s shoulder. 

It was a long time before Jaskier fell asleep, but Geralt’s own exhaustion dragged him under quickly. Jaskier knew it was only because he felt safe to let himself be vulnerable which was why there would be no one joining them. 

Jaskier didn’t even mind the sickly smell of the toxins as they seeped through Geralt’s pores. He rose only once to bathe Geralt’s skin with fresh water when it hit its peak, but once he settled back against Geralt, he fell into a peaceful slumber.

Perhaps no monsters had been slain that night, but not every battle needed murderous intent. There were notes enough for the quiet moments of vulnerability as well.


End file.
